


Memories of Carnot

by TheBiophone



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, Homework Era, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiophone/pseuds/TheBiophone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas' and Guy-Man's memories of high school are decidedly different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Carnot

         It was 11:30 on a cool, Parisian summer’s night. In a secluded, dingy club, Daft Punk were finishing up a gig.

 

         “Quick, Thomas, increase the bass,” Guy-Man whispered as quietly as one could in a room of blaring dance music. “Bring up the bass, lower the treble, invert it, pitch it up, and then end it.”

 

         “Got it,” Thomas answered, not even having to look up to know exactly what his friend wanted.  As the tall, lanky DJ did just that, the crowd began cheering wildly.  Beer was spilling everywhere, and the patrons of the club were jumping and swaying with the beat. As the club reached its peak energy, the music stopped. Thomas waved to the crowd, and Guy-Man threw up a peace sign. They then silently dismounted from the stage and made their way onto the floor.

 

         “That went well, eh?” Thomas said to Guy-Man, leaning into him. With a smile, he added, “Especially the end.”

 

         Guy-Man gave a small, embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I think so,” he answered, not quite making eye contact with his friend.

 

         “Hey, Thomas!” a voice cried out suddenly. “Thomas Bangalter?”

 

         The duo stopped walking, and Thomas turned his head in the direction of the voice.

 

         “Hey!” he called back with surprise and cheer. Gesturing at Guy-Man to follow, Thomas walked toward a couple that were seated at a booth across the hall.

 

         “Long time, no see!” the man said as Thomas and Guy-Man slid into the seats opposite the couple.

 

         “Yeah!” added the woman. “It’s been a while since Carnot!”

 

         “Yeah, no kidding,” Thomas said, letting out a half-hearted chuckle. “So, Jérome, Catherine, how are you?”

 

         “We’re great, thanks!” Catherine answered. “How ‘bout you?”

 

         “Ah, pretty good, thanks,” Thomas said.

 

         Jérome and Catherine then turned their attentions to the stocky, long-haired creature sitting silently next to Thomas.

 

         “Is that your… partner?” Catherine asked with skepticism.

 

         Thomas made a sly smile and chuckled quietly. “You could say that,” he said. “This is Guy-Man, my friend and musical partner.” Thomas paused before adding, “He went to Carnot, too. Don’t you remember him?”

 

         “Not really, no,” Catherine admitted.

 

         “Yeah, me neither,” Jérome added. “Are you sure he went there?”

 

         “I left when I was about 16,” said Guy-Man quietly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind his left ear.

 

         Thomas laughed at his friend’s statement. “You were 15!” he corrected. Thomas then turned to Jérome and Catherine. “He was expelled,” he explained. “His grades weren’t good enough.”

 

         The couple burst out laughing.

 

         “Well, that makes sense!” Jérome said.

 

         “Yeah!” Catherine added smoothly. “Carnot is something of an elite school.”

 

         Guy-Man sunk into his seat and deflected his gaze away from the conversation.

 

         “Of course, Thomas, you were as elite as they came,” Jérome said. “You were skipped ahead a year, right?”

 

         “Ah, well, it’s not something I really think about,” said Thomas, blushing, smiling, and scratching the back of his neck.

 

         “And you were class president!” Catherine chimed in.

 

         “True…” Thomas replied, laughing slightly, putting his hands on the table.

 

         “I’m going out for a smoke,” Guy-Man declared abruptly, shoving himself out of the booth as he said it. The three conversationalists looked at him as he quickly made his way out.

 

         “What’s his problem?” Catherine asked. “Doesn’t he know he can smoke in here?”

 

         “No wonder he got booted from Carnot,” Jérome retorted.

 

         Thomas shot the pair a look of disbelief before turning to look back at Guy-Man’s path, which had long since been refilled with drunken revelers. His eyes widened.

 

         “I—it was nice seeing you two again,” Thomas quipped, getting up from the table, “but I really have to go now.” Without looking back, Thomas darted away from the booth and into the crowd.

 

         Pushing his way through the crowd, Thomas scanned the building for signs of his friend. Dark-haired people, coats on hangers… anything that could have belonged to Guy-Man, Thomas noted in his mind.

 

         “Guy-Man!” he shouted, barely making a dent in the noise of the club. Some low-rate techno group was now on the stage, blasting their music as loudly as possible.

 

 _There’s no way he’s up there,_ Thomas thought. _If he were up there, he would be screaming at all the mistakes they’re making._

         Eventually, Thomas made his way outside of the plain-looking club. Looking onto the street ahead, he saw no sign of Guy-Man.

 

         “Crap, crap, crap…” Thomas whispered very faintly, barely shaking his vocal cords. Even that managed to irritate his throat slightly, as a lump had started to form in it. He began breathing heavily.

 

         Just then, he noticed a plume of smoke coming from around the corner of the building.

 

         “Guy-Man!” Thomas shouted, as he ran around the corner.

 

         Sure enough, Guy-Man was there, suckling on a cigarette and looking at the ground. He did nothing to respond to his friend’s new presence there.

 

         “Guy-Man!” Thomas repeated, before adding, “Are you okay?”

 

         Shoving the cigarette into the pavement, Guy-Man exhaled. “I’m fine,” he muttered, fixing his gaze straight ahead, away from Thomas. “How are things with your friends?”

 

         “Frie—“ Thomas started. Then, he said, “Guy-Man, what are you talking about?”

 

         “You know what I’m talking about,” Guy-Man insisted curtly. “Your elite friends from Carnot. How are they?”

 

         Thomas stood bewildered for a moment. He then said, “Guy-Man, they were just two people who recognized me from school! They’re not my friends!”

 

         “Really?” Guy-Man questioned, turning to Thomas. “’Cause they sure seemed to remember you as the most elite of all.”

 

         “What are you talking about?” Thomas asked irately.

 

         “I’m talking about M. Class-President-Who-Was-Skipped-Ahead-A-Year-‘Cause-He’s-So-Damn-Great-And-Smart-and-Wonderful,” Guy-Man said, waving his fingers in the air intermittently.

 

         Thomas sighed. “Guy, that’s—“

 

         ‘’—And, of course, that wasn’t enough,” Guy-Man said, speaking over Thomas. “You had to remind everyone that I was expelled!”

 

         “Well, why the hell did you lie about it?” Thomas yelled.

 

         Guy-Man got up, his face red and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why the hell would I tell the truth about that?” he asked, staring at Thomas. “Why the fuck would anyone admit that they were kicked out of an elite school, because their grades weren’t good enough?”

 

         “Guy-Man, I—“

 

         “Look, dude, I’m sorry,” Guy-Man growled, his eyes growing redder by the second. “I’m sorry I lied in front of the smart kids. I’m sorry I’m such a useless embarrassment! I’m sorry that I’m not smart enough or good enough for you!”

 

         Both men gasped at what the elder of the two had just said.

 

         “Guy-Man…” Thomas whispered, extending a hand out to touch his friend’s right shoulder. Guy-Man pulled away before Thomas could touch him, looking like a scared, little animal in front of his younger friend. He stared at Thomas for a moment. He then lunged himself into his friend, wrapping him up in a hug and burying his face in Thomas’ chest. A flood of tears soon stained Thomas’ green shirt.

 

         “Thomas…” Guy-Man sobbed. “Thomas, I’m sorry! I’m so… so sorry!” Those were the only words he could push out amidst the tears.

 

         “No, no, buddy, it’s okay,” Thomas said, putting his arms around his friend and rubbing his back. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt that way….” Tears began falling from his own eyes and onto Guy-Man’s hair.

 

         “I try not to think about it,” Guy-Man managed to get out. “It’s just… it’s not always easy being the class president’s underachieving friend.”

 

         “Listen, Guy-Man,” Thomas said, leaning right into his friend’s shoulder. “Your academic standing wasn’t what made you my friend. Your goodness, your humour, and your love are what made you my friend. That’s worth more than grades any day.”

 

         “Thomas…” Guy-Man mumbled. His tears were starting to dry.

 

         “Besides,” Thomas continued, “you’re smarter than you could ever imagine. The end of the set? That was you. I wouldn’t have thought of that by myself. Every day, you have such deep insights into music and into the world. You’re more brilliant than you could ever realize. Carnot wasn’t good enough for you.”

 

         “Thomas….”

 

         The two friends stood there, embracing in the dark night for a long while.

 

         “Let’s get out of this back way,” Thomas finally suggested. His tears had dried.

 

         Guy-Man poked his head up slightly, looking at Thomas’ gentle eyes. “Yeah,” he said, letting go of Thomas. Thomas, in turn, let go of his friend.

 

         As they got up onto the sidewalk, Guy-Man began to laugh.

 

         “What’s so funny?” Thomas asked, as a smile of relief spread across his face.

 

         “That group in there is horrible,” Guy-Man said. “Like, that time signature alone is terrible for club music. What are they thinking?”

 

         “I don’t know,” Thomas said, “but it doesn’t matter.”

 

         Guy-Man raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” he asked.

 

         “I hear a waltz in my head,” cooed Thomas softly.

 

         Guy-Man smiled and closed his eyes. “I feel a waltz in my heart,” he replied.

 

         Gently, Thomas placed his right hand on Guy-Man’s shoulder, as Guy-Man wrapped his left arm around Thomas’ waist. They then clasped each other’s free hands together in the space between their shoulders. With that, they began to dance slowly on the sidewalk, the only thing on their minds being each other.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my longest one posted to Ao3. I hope it was worthwhile....


End file.
